


don't go around tonight

by memitims



Series: assorted alternate universes [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2137527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it all started with a goddamn hailstorm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't go around tonight

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](http://quentincoldwater.tumblr.com/post/92269898358/offers-other-person-the-second-twix-at-a-bus-stop) post ('share an umbrella in a hail storm au')

Mickey was pissed. It was supposed to be sunny today, so he’d put on jeans and a t-shirt and had been fully ready to appreciate a nice Chicago afternoon, and then it started fucking hailing. It didn’t even rain, just skipped straight to hail, and he still had a few blocks before he was home. The hail pelted all around him, making rhythmic noises as it collided with the ground, and Mickey stuck close to the buildings, crowding as far over on the sidewalk as he could so he could stay under the awnings.

There wasn’t really anyone else around, because everybody else was fucking smart and had jumped inside when it started hailing, but Mickey had never been one to let a little weather fuck up his day. He did, however, spot a lone figure up ahead, outside the local convenience store. He took a closer look as he scrambled down the sidewalk, peering through the hazy grey air. Mickey recognized the guy, he was one of those Gallagher kids, the brother with red hair that was around Mickey’s age and had been on his Little League team all those years ago.  _Ian_ , Mickey’s brain supplied, because he always remembered stupid shit like that, he remembered that Ian had always been nice to him, even though he kinda sucked at baseball and he was always screwing around during practice, and his dad made him skip like half of the games.

Which was totally why he slowed down and called out Gallagher’s name, and not at all because he could see that Ian had filled out nicely, he wasn’t that scrawny little kid anymore, and Mickey hadn’t realized it at the time, but he probably always kinda had a crush on the guy.

He also had an umbrella.

“Yo,” Mickey called. “Gallagher.”

Ian whipped around as he finished locking up the store, and his eyes widened when he caught sight of Mickey. “Mickey Milkovich?”

Mickey nodded and ducked under the overhang. “The one and only.” He pointed towards the black umbrella in Ian’s hand. “You gonna use that whole thing, or can I fucking share it?” Mickey felt a little weird asking for help, if it was any other random kid from his childhood he probably wouldn’t have, but Ian Gallagher was the kind of guy that could make him do stupid stuff, the kind of guy that could make Mickey forget that he was a Milkovich, and Milkoviches didn’t get good things.

Ian laughed. “‘Course. Wouldn’t want one of those hailstones to screw up all that gel in your hair.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey said, without any heat, crowding closer to Ian as he opened the umbrella over their heads. It was smaller than Mickey had expected, and it fit both of them, but Mickey ended up close, way too close, and this was a stupid fucking idea, because Ian looked even nicer up close. Mickey could see his freckles and his goddamn eyelashes and his crooked smile. He should’ve just taken his chances with the hail.

“You work here?” Mickey asked, stupidly.

Ian nodded and took off down the block towards their part of the city, and Mickey walked next to him, their shoulders brushing. Ian was taller than him, just by a little bit, but still taller, so he held the umbrella high above their heads, and it felt pretty fucking nice not to be hit by little balls of hail. Ian’s fingers were wrapped around the umbrella handle, and Mickey really shouldn’t be staring at his fingers, but he couldn’t help it. Mickey was a dead man for thinking about how nice those fingers would feel in his hair, how they would feel trailing across his skin, but for one incredible moment, Mickey was alone on the streets of Chicago with a cute boy and he just didn’t give a fuck that he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about things like that.

Ian turned towards Mickey, and he couldn’t help it, his breath caught his throat when Ian’s eyes landed on his. “What have you been up to, anyways? Haven’t seen you much since we were kids.”

“Oh, you know,” Mickey waved a hand. “Not going to class. Fucking shit up. The usual.”

Ian laughed, a bright sound that cut through the gloomy haze. “Sounds like fun.”

 _Christ_. Mickey was so unbelievably screwed. He didn’t have the luxury to develop crushes on nice redheads, but it was too fucking late. Mickey’s life was really just a giant joke. It wasn’t a movie, it didn’t have a happy ending, and the sooner that Mickey accepted that, the better. Except, of all the guys in the city to stop and help him, it had to be the one Mickey couldn’t get out of his head since he was a kid. Ian Gallagher was gonna be the death of him. Go fucking figure.

Mickey watched as Ian worried his lip between his teeth.  _Fuck_ , he really wanted to kiss him, in the middle of the empty street, as the hail hurled down beside them and his shoulders shook with the cold. Mickey had never really had the urge to kiss someone, not like this, but Ian made him think about dumb shit.

“Want me to walk you back to your place?” Ian asked, because he was too damn sweet for his own good, and the hail had subsided by this point, but the rain was coming down even harder. Mickey thought about it for a second, before saying yes. He wanted to walk next to Ian for as long as he could.

They talked a little bit, about school, and Ian’s job, and stuff around the neighborhood, and Mickey teased Ian about his freckles and Ian teased Mickey about his hair, and Mickey hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time. He was almost disappointed when they reached his front porch. He bounded up the stairs, but not before thanking Ian for the umbrella.

“You should probably get one of your own,” Ian called up the steps. “I’m not always gonna be there to save you from killer hail.”

Mickey flipped him off and ran into the house, quietly smiling into his shoulder.

\---

The hail didn’t return, but Mickey did. He told himself he just liked walking in this part of the city, as he started stopping by the convenience store a couple times a week, but he was secretly hoping that Ian would be around to tell him stories about his day at work and smile at him, because they were fucking friends or something.

The nights were getting longer, the evenings darker, and it was practically pitch-black outside when Ian was closing up. Mickey had slept well the night before, he was feeling restless and energetic, and that was probably why he snuck up behind Ian and danced his hands over his hips playfully, laughing at the expression on Ian’s face.

Mickey turned around and bolted. “Bet you can’t catch me,” he called over his shoulder, and Ian locked the door and took off down the street towards Mickey.

“You’re dead, Mickey,” he yelled, tearing down the sidewalk. Ian was fast, faster than Mickey had anticipated, and he caught up with Mickey after a few blocks, and Mickey turned down an alley with Ian close on his heels.

Mickey turned around, slowing down to catch his breath, and Ian was right there. He pressed Mickey up against the wall of the dark alley, his eyes shining in the darkness, laughter bubbling out of his mouth. Mickey couldn’t look away. They were both breathing heavily, their chests close and their eyes locked, and Mickey didn’t know who started it, but that didn’t matter, because they were leaning forward and pressing their mouths together.

They were kissing, and Mickey knew it was bound to happen eventually, and he knew it was bound to end badly, but Mickey didn’t care about any of that shit for a moment, because Ian’s tongue was licking at the seam of Mickey’s mouth and Mickey had never felt so alive.

That was the great fucking irony of the whole thing, that the one thing that made Mickey feel alive again was the one thing that would get him killed in an heartbeat, that was why Mickey’s life wasn’t a goddamn fairytale, but none of that mattered when Ian’s body was warm against his.

Mickey told his brain, his father, even the goddamn world to fuck off, and he pulled Ian closer.


End file.
